


Domestic Terror

by Cataraction



Category: The Tick (TV 2017)
Genre: Domestic, Lazy Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cataraction/pseuds/Cataraction
Summary: Even evil hates early mornings.





	Domestic Terror

**Author's Note:**

> No one has written anything about The Terror from Tick so I'm writing ALL OF IT cause I'm in love with this wheezy voiced fuck.

Regardless of who you are or what you do, most people cannot stand mornings. Although the Terror was a super villain to end all supervillains and held massive power and control in his own two hands, he was no stranger to hating mornings. But if he was to move his evil schemes forward in a timely manner, he knew he needed to wake up early some days. Did it piss him off to no end and cause him to consider creating a more effective time freezing device? Of course it did. He knew after this scheme went off without a hitch, he'd work on that. 

The buzz of his alarm clock woke him with a start. The neon display flashed the time: 6am. He groaned loudly and shoved his face back in his pillow, hand reaching out to smack at the infernal device. He only wished he was the one to invent something as evil as the alarm clock. After fighting with himself for several minutes as to weather or not this plan was worth getting up at the crack of dawn for, he slowly rose from his bed. Kicking off blankets and sheets, shivering as the chilly air of his room brushed his bed warmed skin. He shuffled over to his wardrobe, snatched out a pair of sweatpants, and tugged them up over his legs and hips. He then shuffled out the door to the kitchen just a few doors down. 

At this time in the morning, none of his minions would be awake besides those working in the lower levels of the hideout. So for now, walking into the massive, cafeteria like kitchen without a shirt on didn't bother him. Even if a few early birds were in there, he wasn't worried. As if they'd make any comments. His bare feet touched the cold tile floor and he groaned, hugging his torso and shivering again. He was starting to wonder why he didn't grab his house coat. He blamed it on the early hours or the interruption of his sleeping patterns. 

Mindlessly, he put a pot of coffee in the machine to start brewing. The mechanical whirring mixed with the hot steam and smell of fresh coffee invigorated him somewhat and made him smile sleepily. He leaned his back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. His head lolled back, eyes closed and breathing slow as he sifted through his brain. What he had to do today, all that needed to get done in general, the orders he'd have to put out. Slowly, he organized everything into a sort of chronological order in his head. Despite all the evil things he had planned, there were small things he still needed to do here and there that were more normal. Needed to get one of his cloaks repaired, shine his boots, do some basic laundry which had been slipping his mind for several days. But the idea that seemed to rise to the surface like cream over and over again, was getting something to eat. 

He ran his fingertips down his belly, humming as he peered down at the softer flesh there. He wondered when the tight abs and slim physique he held as a younger man melted into a softer, rounder form. He tensed his gut briefly and beneath could still vaguely feel the muscles he remembered and took for granted. A short snort brushed the idea away and helped him focus on breakfast. He absolutely had no energy to make anything big at all, nor did he have a massive appetite at this moment. He peaked around the counters for any ideas and found a rather large bowl of apples. He knew exactly which of his men had brought such a huge amount of apples into the lair and was almost thankful of it now. At the time, he was a mix of confused and annoyed. 

He plucked through the fruits finding a bright green one that fit in his palm well. As he settled on that, he heard the coffee maker chime, signalling his life saving elixir was ready. Reaching into the overhead cupboards, he grabbed his favourite mug. A black mug that read "#1 super villain" in bright red lettering. Once the coffee was poured he considered adding a tiny bit of cream before shrugging it off. Cream was for the weak, he figured. With a long swig of the black liquid, he hummed happily. Bringing the apple up to his lips he quickly sunk his gold teeth into the flesh of it, tearing out a chunk and chewing. He could care less about how messy it was or that half the juices running down his chin were making their way onto his neck and chest. He still had a shower planned for some time this morning so it didn't matter. 

He stayed there a long while, enjoying what little breakfast he had and his coffee. However, he watched the time carefully. He didn't want to waste his morning, especially since he'd woken up so early to get shit done. As 6:45 rolled around he was well finished his breakfast and was nursing the last few sips of his coffee which was verging on luke warm at this point. He ran his hand over his torso again, scratching idly at his side and taking note of the splotches of stickiness the juice had left on him. He grimaced at that and made a note to shower Immediately. 

Throwing his head back, he downed the last of the bitter drink, gave the mug a swift rinse and placed it back in its cupboard. He was far more awake now and ready for the rest of the day, or more ready than he was 45 minutes ago. Evil had woken up and was ready for the world.


End file.
